


oil on water

by fiachs



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: F/F, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-21 23:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiachs/pseuds/fiachs
Summary: Three years after the destruction of Bahamut, Vaan and Balthier still have treasures to find and adventures to have.





	1. Salikawood

Vaan wakes to the sight of a Wyrdhare sitting on his chest, nose twitching and eyes blinking rapidly. He sits up quickly, scaring off the little creature back into the nearby brush. A bit away from him Balthier and Fran are going over a map in their hands, and Penelo is looking over at him laughing.

“You’re up.”

“Finally.” Balthier chimes in, not bothering to look away from the map in his hands as Fran points to another location.

“If we go through the Garden of Decay, we will reach the tree.”

Tomorrow marks three years since the fall of the Bahamut, since Ashe took over as Queen and Larsa as emperor. Three years since Basch wore the armor of his fallen brother, and three years since Vaan promised to take care of the _Strahl_. Vaan shakes his head, blonde hair following suit, and stands.

Two years since he found the note and rushed off into the great sky to find Balthier and Fran, to join them on another adventure. 

Their meet-up then had offered little time for formal welcome back’s - by the time Vaan caught up with the pirating duo they were already well deep in their search for some ancient artifact of the Rozarrian Empire and in need of an extra hand in avoiding another stay in a prison. It was fitting however, the rush of blood and the laughter Vaan felt in piloting the _Strahl_ away from Jahara with Balthier shouting at him that he was flying too harshly.

The rest became a distant history. Now it was him, Balthier, Fran, and Penelo off to take whatever they saw fit. Vaan looks over to Balthier now who is still too enthralled in the map to notice. And take whatever they saw fit, some of them had.

“We should get moving. It will be dark soon.”

Balthier rolls up the map at that and slides it into his vest. Fran picks her bow back up and mentions for Penelo. The two ladies start off down the path, shaded from the setting sun by the large canopy of trees. Vaan comes up beside Balthier, who is watching the two women walk and squints.

“What’s that face for?”

“I think our two ladies might be a bit more than just friends.”

“Duh. I figured that out before we got here.”

Vaan looks up at his companion, all smiles and teasing eyes.

“You mean you didn’t know?”

Balthier opens his mouth, ready with some quick retort before shutting it and pushing Vaan forward from the small of his back. 

“Let’s get moving Vaan, we don’t want to be left behind.”

Vaan tries not to relish the warmth of Balthier’s hand too long. There’s always room for that later, when the sun has finally set and their camp set up.

* * *

The trek to camp isn’t much longer. The sun finally sets as Fran works on a fire and Penelo cooking their meal. Off to the side Vaan finds himself looking over the map Balthier had earlier, his companion lounging by his side on top of a cleaned wolf pelt brought along for moments like these. 

“So, not much further right?” 

The map is written in Language and while he understands enough, some of the words still elude him. Balthier, finally propping up on his elbows after grimacing at the soft squish of mud underneath the pelt looks over Vaan’s shoulder to the map. 

“We’re in the Sun-Dappled Path now, shouldn’t be more than a few hours once we wake.”

Vaan hums, half-listening and half enjoying the sensation of Balthier so close. He can smell the expensive Archadian aftershave that the other uses, despite arguing that nothing good has come from his once-homeland. A sky pirate has no origin, he tells him late at night when their eyes are both heavy and limbs full of weight. It’s moments like those that Vaan also responds with a hum.

In the distance the last of the Chocobo’s squawking has died down, and the rustle of leaves behind them signifying the last of the Sprinter’s settling down. All that leaves them is the sound of Fran’s fire crackling, and one another’s breathing. 

It doesn’t take much longer for Vaan to start chewing on his bottom lip. Twenty years was enough to see him a man in the eyes of most, but some childhood habits would never completely die. Balthier looks at him from the corner of his eye before sighing. Instinctively, Vaan lets out his own breath and leans back into Balthier’s extended arm behind his back. 

“Tired are we?”

“No.”

His teeth keep worrying his lip. Balthier sighs again, more frustrated this time as his hand snakes over to Vaan’s on the pelt.

“Out with it then.”

The fire crackles loudly, a burst of new wood on top of his and past the hanging strands of Vaan’s hair Balthier can see Fran’s ears twitch, though she does not signal over to them. He’ll have to remind himself to thank her later, even if she’ll have heard every word passed between him and their churl.

“How many more adventures do you think we’ll have?”

Ah, Balthier thinks. A boy-now-man growing up without a home (proper, at least) finally finding solace in the sky (and in others) can only find himself worrying how much longer this will last. And Balthier finds himself mending to the idea of having Vaan around even after he’s too old to be running through overgrown forests and old desert temples. 

“As long as there’s something to take, we’ll have too many to count.”

Vaan’s lip is still between his teeth and Balthier nudges him with his shoulder. Even like this, downtrodden and thinking of some end-game that Balthier won’t pretend will never come, he finds the younger man a sight for sore eyes. While he would never admit to Fran’s claims of him ‘moping about’, he missed Vaan. The laughs, the bickering, the complaining that never surmounts to anything other than indignant huffing and groaning.

Finally the other inclines his head and Balthier surges forward. 

It’s not their first kiss and surely won’t be the last tonight. Their fingers tangle together atop the pelt behind their backs and Vaan’s lips part for Balthier with a soft, appreciative hum that will always sound like music to Balthier’s ears.

“Time to eat.”

Fran’s voice breaks their kiss before it can go any further. Vaan looks at him through a low gaze, his fingers still grasping onto Balthier’s tightly. But it’s Balthier that hovers for a moment longer, drinking in the sight of his Dalmascan blonde before surging forward for one last kiss. 

“There will be plenty of time for this later, Vaan. Now we eat lest we make the ladies cross with us.” 

Balthier’s breath smells like mead and Vaan finds himself licking his lips as they get up.

* * *

The Garden of Decay offers the same view as before; low overhanging tree canopies, wild Wyrdhares and Green Chocobos running from the Pumpkin Heads that cut down easily on Vaan’s dagger. Penelo stands beside him, spear in hand, as Fran and Balthier stay in the back with their bow and gun respectively. 

“When were you going to tell me about you and our other desert company?”

Fran doesn’t look over at him, merely pulls the bow onto her shoulder.

“I did not think I had to explain.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

She looks over at him from the corner of her eye before looking out to where Vaan and Penelo are, gathering up the dropped treasures from their latest kill. How close they’ve all become from their original run in in Dalmasca all those years ago to now, and to how fond the heart grows in distance.

“She makes me happy.”

Balthier follows Fran’s eyes finally, looking not at Penelo, but Vaan instead. Slightly more muscular than before but more lean than anything else, nimble, and still shining even with the sun shaded by trees. A treasure in itself. 

“I suppose I am as well. I’m happy for you.” 

Vaan looks over at them and waves to them, all smiles as Penelo grabs him by the arm and tugs him off towards their next destination. Daylight will end sooner than they think, and Balthier thinks on the promise that he made to Vaan the previous night.

* * *

“What’s that look for?”

Vaan looks down at Balthier, still straddling his waist with hands on Balthier’s exposed chest. Another day spent searching the hollow trees in the Quietened Trace offered little reward. A few things that could be sold back in town for a nice amount of gil, but nothing substantial, and certainly not what they’ve been looking for these past days. Balthier misses the sky - the feeling of the _Strahl_ vibrating under his hands as they soar through a storm. 

His eyes focus on a stray freckle on Vaan’s shoulders and he thinks that this is always a good substitute for being away from the sky.

“I’m not making any face, Vaan. Don’t say such rude things to people you’ve just gone to bed with.”

Vaan laughs and it’s music to Balthier’s ear. It has been, ever since the first time they first wandered through the Salikawood. A more noble purpose then, but nevertheless. Affections always spawned somewhere. 

Balthier runs a hand up the knots in Vaan’s spine, humming when his companion hums first, hands curling against his chest. 

“I was simply thinking about how lovely you look now that you’re not covered in mud and pumpkin guts. We’ll have to work on those habits when we get back to the Strahl.”

His hand goes around Vaan’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss that Vaan readily welcomes. Mouths part, tongues meet. Vaan’s eyes flutter closed and Balthier finds himself lingering on the parts of Vaan he can still see through blonde hair; closed eyes with long eyelashes, brown skin that smells like the sun.

“You’re weird,” but it’s said without malice and a smile that makes Balthier suck in quickly. 

How far he’s fallen. No longer the charming rogue moving from person to person each night as he saw fit. Now he thinks of the nights like this, with the warm radiating off Vaan’s bare back against his chest.

“Yes I’m well aware. You make a point to mention it often.”

Hands start to get greedy for the second time that night, and Balthier lets himself enjoy the weight of the other man above him for what it is.

* * *

The party finds their way into the Grand Bower and after leaving Fran to move about the land, they finally find what they’re looking for: an orient spear grown into the trunk of a hollow tree. It takes Vaan a few minutes to pull it free with the help from Penelo. 

“This what we need?”

Balthier looks over the spear in Vaan’s hands, looks back to the map, and nods.

“That’s it.”

“I thought it’d be more of a challenge.”

By the time the words leave Vaan’s mouth, something has come and started to form behind him. Not a moment later does the Rageclaw fully form and attack the group. Fran and Balthier take to the back for support and magick where needed, Vaan and Penelo in the front lines. Vaan tosses the new spear to Penelo to use.

It takes a good amount of time and first aid’s later, but the beast finally falls and Vaan sits down on a mossy rock.

“Can you both refrain from using the artifact as a weapon next time?” 

He snatches the spear from Penelo, who laughs as he takes it and turns back to smile shyly at Fran who is healing a slightly nasty gash on her arm from the beast. 

“It’s a weapon! Why wouldn’t we use it?”

Balthier sighs and looks over the spear now dug into the ground. Some things would never change, it seemed.

“Because Vaan, if we damage it, the proprietor may not give us the full asking price.”

Vaan shrugs his shoulders, shouts something about it being theirs at the end of the day, and it would be up to them whether or not to sell it damaged or otherwise. Balthier bites back his remark when Fran looks over at him, ears twitching. 

“You might have a change of attitude once we run out of supplies on the _Strahl_ and have to resort to selling those gold trinkets you’ve taken from the Rozzarian treasury.”

The Dalmascan’s cheeks tint and he huffs up at his companion before snatching the spear out of the ground and making back to their camp. Balthier follows soon after, Penelo and Fran in tow. The sooner they got back to camp, the sooner they could leave the damp and muddy landscape behind and take back to the skies.

When they reach camp, Vaan is already in his tent. The spear is stuck in the ground beside Penelo and Fran’s tent and Balthier once more finds himself pinching the bridge of his nose at the carelessness of such a priceless item. He ducks into the tent, already undoing his cufflinks.

“Vaan, if you leave that out there so carelessly, we won’t have to make the decision on what to do with it as it will most likely be stolen from us.”

A pillow is promptly thrown into Balthier’s face.

“No need to be cross. Come here.” 

They fall asleep chest to back, Vaan’s head still turned away from Balthier’s but their hands twisted together against Vaan’s chest.

* * *

It takes another day and a half before they get back to the _Strahl_ with the spear safely in their possession. Penelo goes to secure it for the flight back to Nabradia and Fran moves into the cockpit for navigation. Vaan lingers behind, hand on the _Strahl_ as he looks out at the Salikawood they’re about to leave behind until the next time.

“Don’t look so disappointed.”

Balthier hovers beside him, one hand light on Vaan’s hip.

“I’m not disappointed.”

“What is it then?”

Vaan sighs and hands his head as one of his hands comes up to ruffle his hair. 

“What’s the point of taking all this if we can’t keep some of it for ourselves?”

“Ah.”

Balthier lets his hand slide around the younger’s waist, keeping him grounded and beside him as he reaches into his pocket to pull out another piece of gold. An old amulet of such, or so it seems, with a large green stone on the inside of it giving out a faint glow.

“Does this satisfy this silly whim you have?”

Vaan’s eyes light up as he snatches the amulet out of Balthier’s hands. 

“Yep.”

Penelo calls out to them that it’s time to leave. Balthier makes to release Vaan, albeit a bit reluctantly as he watches his partner’s eyes glisten at the gold reflecting his expression. It’s a treasure in its own way, he thinks.

“Come now, we don’t want them to leave without us.”

When he turns to board the ship, Vaan grabs a hold of his arm and pulls him close, locking their lips as the clouds above them start to rain. They linger like that, enjoying the smell of dampening soil and the feeling of one another’s lips on their own. 

They part finally; Balthier with low eyes and Vaan licking his lips.

“You’ve gone soft.” Fran says to him once Balthier settles down in the captain’s chair, but she’s smiling in that barely noticeable way of hers.

“I could say the same thing about you. I’m merely securing us a quiet flight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright time to give this ship a go finally, after 10+ years lmao they've been a favorite of mine for as long so it's only right i try to do something. i don't include any RW material..... i never played it and while some aspects of it look great as a whole idk i wasn't sold but the world itself my favorite ff (i.e. ivalice in general). will be 5 (plus an epilogue) of different trips about 3 years after the end of the main game.
> 
> inspiration comes from user Rahmi's 'A New World Born' in the idea of going to different places again!! please read their stories they're wonderful.
> 
> if you wanna chat on tumblr hmu!! i'm user @goetzed i've also got discord
> 
> much love to everyone who reads, comments, and/or leaves kudos. xo


	2. Bhujerba

The walk down the Travica Way holds the same kind of breath of fresh air that Vaan remembers so fondly. The first real trip was so long ago; wandering towards the Lhusu Mines in search of Penelo back before their whole adventure really started. It could have ended there. He and Penelo going back to Rabanastre without any of the knowledge that came about after. Not even how the war truly ended.

Instead they had tagged along in search of something more. A purpose, a destination, a plight to save their home from destruction. Six wandering souls all converging into a single path, and then splitting again with warmth in their hearts at the conclusion. 

“We should go visit Basch when we’re done. Larsa too.” 

Vaan looks over his shoulder, arms folded to hold the back of his neck. Penelo smiles means agreement, Fran looks at him thoughtfully before nodding, Balthier sighs and slides his thumbs into the front of his pants. 

“You do remember that this is no longer _your_ ship, don’t you?”

Vaan keeps his grin wide and full of pearly whites. He knows at the end of the day Balthier misses their companions just as much as he does, but their lives took different paths. Basch and Larsa, Ashe, and luckily, Vaan thinks, he has the three with him now. Loneliness and solitude never looked good on him, and having to go back to that after all those months would make him sick. 

“Yeah.”

Vaan winks before turning back around and heading for the heart of Bhujerba where the smell of freshly cooked Ring Wyrm Liver wafts through the air. Fran moves around him, off towards Ondore’s estate and Penelo towards the shops in need of provisions for their next adventure. Balthier stays off to the side by the right railing, looking over the edge to the clouds below. 

A beautiful place, there was no doubting that, but the city was nothing more than a passing landmark for Balthier. It was a place to refuel, to rest, to take a break for a night or so but that was it. Being in the sky without the haul of the Strahl around him seemed wrong, like a fish out of water, regardless of how breathtaking the sights may be.

He looks up to see Vaan looking back at him through the entrance way, waving with an innocent smile turned wicked in the latter years before finally disappearing around a stone corner.

Breathtaking sights indeed.

The city continues to move around him however. Street carts being pushed with vendors shouting the list of goods they have today mixed with the muffled sounds of the shops and taverns echoing whenever a door is opened, and the distant sound of airship’s engines turning on and off in the aerodrome behind him completes the atmosphere.

And it’s there that Balthier feels loneliness creep up on him like a cold blanket for the first time in a long while.

* * *

There is no significance held with the Lhusu Mines. No major battles fought here, no Espers lying in wait to adorn the unbridled skin of the motivated and the non-divine. Nothing more than a passing encounter and a rescue mission. Yet, still, Balthier looks down the walkway to the mines and feels the kiss of melancholy land on his shoulder like an unwanted friend.

Fran is still at Ondore’s, Penelo off in the shops doing the hard work to benefit the rest of them, and Vaan is Gods only know where. He misses them, individually, in their own ways. Fran for the few words - the partner by his side for so many years. She stands beside him like the wood she’s from; sturdy, grounded, weidling.

Penelo like a breath of air; the desire to learn and grow on her own while mutually helping the rest of their merry little band of sky pirate fools. He thinks of the first night they had their own solo moment, and might never forget the comforting hand on his shoulder and empathetic eyes much too old for the body they reside in. 

(War, he believes, does this to the best. Or it turns them bitter.)

Balthier takes a deep breath, holds it for a few moments before passing it through his nose. And then there is Vaan; the fire in his veins, the burning edge of his tongue that is always hot with unwanted guidance, jests, praise, and desire. Vaan, the person to rival the routine of just he and Fran being a solidary duo (not without promiscuity on his end, but never more than a night and a note without a name).

The wind blows harsh around the floating landscape, and howls into the open cavern like it’s calling out. Not painful, not yearning, not some siren’s allure. It merely howls and Balthier feels an itch at the bottom of his feet to run, run, and run until he wears out the bottoms of his shoes. To run until his feet are bruised and bloody, and to continue running after still.

But he does no such thing.

With his arms down by his sides, hands still and open palmed, Balthier turns and heads back into town as the wind blows through the mines once more. 

It isn’t until he’s well into the city that the sound deafens and then finally subsides, replaced by wood creaking, bells chiming, and people speaking a myriad of languages.

* * *

“Vaan isn’t back yet?”

Penelo comes in shortly after he does. Fran, having bathed and relaxed on the balcony, stayed in the room for the most part. They might need to go through the Golmore Jungle if the whispers they’ve heard are correct, and Balthier knows not to probe where he shouldn’t. If Fran wants to talk on the matter she’ll do so and he’ll be there to listen if that time arises.

“He has not come to the room.”

Balthier distracts himself with the Bhujerban Madhu so graciously given to them from the Marquis. 

“Maybe he’s gone back to the Strahl. Too anxious to see Basch and Larsa to wait for the rest of us to take a much needed rest in expensive sheets.”

It doesn’t hold any venom, but Penelo shakes her head and he can feel Fran’s eyes on him again. Why would he need to worry about his eyes betraying his heart when his mouth and words could do it for him? It doesn’t seem to fool Penelo who drops off her bags and makes for the door.

“I’m going to look for him.”

When the door clicks shut Balthier turns back to the bottle of madhu, pouring himself another glass and sensing the impending conversation that is soon to follow. 

“Do you have something to say Fran?”

The viera doesn’t move from her lounged position.

“You are worried.” 

Balthier makes a sound, not strangled but close enough, and brings the glass to his lips to down the glass. What would he have to be worried about? That Vaan might run off with a new pirate offering some greater sky? The skies of Ivalice becoming dull, and the lure for something fresh and new taking over the sensation of familiarity?

“Not in the slightest. If Vaan wanted to run off on his own he’d have done so by now.”

Fran doesn’t push the matter further, and Balthier buries himself in a third glass before retiring to his and Vaan’s room for the night. Any hope that his companion might have made a quick stop before Fran got in is stomped when he notices how the sheets are still tucked in with the pillows turned up by the staff, making ready for their guests. 

Balthier runs his hands over his face a few times before showering and going to bed. 

There is nothing to worry about, is the last thought in his mind as he turns out the lights. The sounds of the high winds whistling through the quieting city of Bhujerba take him to his dreams with an uneasiness, and an unwelcome sensation of nostalgia.

* * *

“Balthier, wake up.”

He hears his name being whispered. Close enough to his ear that the lips of the accused brush against the top of the lobe. A pleasant sensation that, and subconsciously Balthier buries himself deeper into the pillows. 

“Balthier!”

Harsher this time and it pulls the worry lines on Balthier’s forehead down close to his eyebrows. He knows this voice, a medium reverberation that tilts closer to a deeper timber for certain syllables and higher for others. He tries not to focus on the quickening heartbeat that comes when he feels a hand, bare, on his shoulder. 

“Vaan, it’s rude to wake someone in the middle of the night.”

The hand continues to push against his shoulder until Balthier finally opens his eyes. He finds the glimmer of Vaan’s hair in the moonlight, having left the curtains open and the window cracked for fresh air. Whatever worry might have plagued his mind earlier is gone the moment he sees the flash of a smile in the darkness.

But he keeps his own smile hidden, and instead displays annoyance. 

“Can you do something for me?”

That brings out the sigh finally. Balthier pushes himself to sit in the bed and the blankets pool around his waist. The air in the bedroom is still pleasantly chill, thanks to the window. Vaan is sat on the bed, shoes and metal armor off and looking ready to get into bed save for the excitable look shining in his eyes that Balthier has learned generally leads to trouble in all kinds of forms. 

“I’m much too tired to sleep with you now. Perhaps if you had been back earlier we could have fooled around.”

“I’m not talking about that.”

“Ah. What _are_ you referring to then?”

Vaan shuffles closer to him and Balthier places both of his hands on either side of his body expectantly. Neither of them seemed bothered by the implication of having sex - they’ve been together for years now, the shyness gone save for rare tender moments. Still, Balthier anticipates Vaan to go for his chest, or neck, or hair before going in for a kiss.

Instead he finds the bottom of his right ear being caressed by calloused fingertips.

“I want you to pierce my ears.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I want you to pierce my ears.”

With his free hand Vaan reaches for the small bag beside him, holding it up for Balthier to see. The foolishness sets in and colors the tops of Balthier’s ears. To think Vaan had gone off somewhere else, with someone else, even for a split second, that might result in him not coming back seems too shameful to voice now. Even between a laugh to try and dissuade from the deeper meaning of dread in the pit of his stomach.

“Why not get them pierced at the stand where you bought the earrings? I’m fairly positive that I never claimed to be good with a needle.”

Vaan’s smile never falters. Not even as he moves to set the bag on the small bedside table on his side of the bed, his other hand still warm against Balthier’s neck now.

“Because I want you to do it. You got steady hands and I trust you, so why wouldn’t I ask you to do it?”

“You’ve got me there.”

The hand on Balthier’s neck travels south just a bit - lingering against his shoulder blades before finally removing itself all together. Vaan sits back and proceeds to pull off the rest of his clothing, tan muscles on full display and without embarrassment. Vaan’s eyes dart on the table for a moment, maybe debating if he should have asked in the first place, and Balthier curses under his breath. 

He reaches out to Vaan to run a hand through his hair, pushing it in front of his eyes and then out causing the other to laugh softly. Doubt never suited Vaan, and Balthier finds himself yearning to remedy it. 

“We can worry about this tomorrow. Let's go to bed shall we? I’d rather not wake up tomorrow looking abysmal. The leading man always has to look his best.” 

Balthier pulls the covers back and allows Vaan to duck underneath them, taking up the warm spot against Balthier’s chest with his arms around the other’s waist as they lay down. He feels a kiss on his sternum and in return places one on the crown of Vaan’s head.

And as he reaches the last moments of being awake he finds that Vaan’s heartbeat has drowned out the soft whistling moan from the mines.

(He only wakes once during the night; chest heaving and heart pounding but it calms down as Vaan holds onto him and kisses his temple.)

* * *

“Vaan. If you keep your hand on my thigh like that it won’t be your ears I end up piercing.”

“Thought you could handle pressure?” A cheeky smile to match the weight of the words.

“I’d rather not handle it at all if I don’t have to, thank you.” 

Vaan’s hand stays on his thigh for a moment longer causing Balthier to let out a low sigh. They’ll never get anywhere like this. The morning had been bad enough - sometime in the night their positions changed and Balthier woke to the sight of Vaan lounging pleasantly against his chest, body rising and falling opposite his own until eyes opened and watched his own.

Breathing moved in tandem to one another as hands started to wander. Over hips, up chests, behind and around ears. Pulling and caressing and eventually pressing and grabbing. Perhaps it would have done them well to fool around in the morning before doing this, but it was too late now. It ended with a lingering kiss and a promise whispered against lips for the continuation later.

Balthier brings the clean needle up and looks it over in the sunlight. The two of them deciding to sit out on the balcony as to not wake the other two still locked in their room. With his free hand Balthier turns Vaan’s head from his chin to line the needle up above the chalk mark.

“Wait.”

“Getting cold feet now?”

Vaan bites his lip. Balthier resists the urge to surge forward and kiss him. He reminds himself of his own promise to Vaan of ‘later’ and in small circles caresses his thumb against Vaan’s jaw, pulling the needle back for a moment. 

“Is it going to hurt?”

“Yes, but only for a moment.”

Perhaps a minute or so passes before Vaan finally nods and closes his eyes, mentally bracing himself for the anticipated pain and Balthier can’t help his smile now. Age, it seemed, would never change some things and for that Balthier was thankful. The youthfulness in Vaan always reminded Balthier of the first footstep into the waters of the Phon Coast after a long trek through the Sandsea. 

Balthier lines the needle back up to the spot on Vaan’s ear, quickly pushing it through before the hand on his chest can push him away again. Fingers curl against his shirt, Balthier merely turns Vaan’s head and creates the second hole in the other ear. Vaan grimaces and before grabbing the rag and ice, he leans in and kisses the side of Vaan’s mouth. 

“All done.” 

After the blood is cleared and the ears now a soft pink shade, Balthier slips in the rings Vaan purchased the day before and checks over his work. Vaan’s hands are still clenched around the fabric of his shirt, pulling it down enough from his neck that Balthier can feel the cool wind blow against his chest.

“Not too bad if I don’t say so myself.” A smirk, his hand still holding onto Vaan’s chin. 

“That wasn’t so bad.”

Balthier hums as he caresses Vaan’s chin - leaning forward for a kiss which the other meets happily. The hands curled in his shirt finally release leaving Balthier to imagine the wrinkles that will still be there by tomorrow morning. When they pull back he can see the rings shining in the sunlight and thinks that perhaps the wrinkles will be worth it for this delightful sight.

“You’re a regular sky pirate now.”

That brings a laugh from Vaan’s lips, which are still smiling as he leans forward for a kiss this time. 

Later they’ll go with Fran and Penelo to grab something to eat and finish their shopping. Balthier will stay away from the entrance to the Lhusu Mines, moving to keep his ears trained to the sound of his companion’s playful bickering instead of the melancholy calling out for him still.

* * *

Night comes just as weary feet retire throughout the group. Penelo and Fran linger in the shared parlor before going to their room, and Balthier lounges back on the bed waiting for Vaan to finish in the bathroom. 

“How are your ears?”

He asks once the other emerges moving for the bed as the lights dim, clothing stripped and arms stretching above his head. Balthier hums, appreciating the view as Vaan touches his ears lightly.

“They’re still sore, but I like them.”

“That’s all that matters.”

Vaan joins him on the bed - straddling his waist and pressing their foreheads together with some wicked smile that could bring a strong man to his knees. Balthier in turn brings his hands to the base of Vaan’s spine, touching the knots he finds there. 

Again Vaan brings his teeth to chew on his lower lips and Balthier pushes against him gently. He opens his mouth, ready to ask what’s ailing him but Vaan beats him to it thankfully. 

“Do you like them?”

That makes Balthier laugh; low, heavy, but so very fond all the same. Of course Vaan is thinking of him. Cruel vanity in his own appearance would naturally lead his companion to question his own. Balthier yearns for the second time that day to make him understand that it doesn’t matter. That Balthier would fancy him even in old age where he hopes their hair will go white instead of gone altogether.

“It doesn’t matter if I like them or not. You should do things because you want to Vaan,” he pauses, watching Vaan’s eyes watching him, “But, yes. I adore them.” 

That brings the smile matched with a plethora of new kisses; against his lips, against his jaw, against his neck. Further down they go until Balthier reaches out to touch lightly on the still sensitive ears of his lover, to scratching against his scalp when lips touch his hip bone. 

“How would you feel if I got - ”

“No more talking Vaan, save that for the trip tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's chapter two!! excuse me while i knife emoji my obnoxious use of the word and.
> 
> i've got notes written for the others and the epilogue but it sort of looks like that screencap of it's always sunny where it's just a bunch of random notes on the wall and no connection yet ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ i feel like ear piercing can be very personal if you don't go to a parlor so it felt perfect for two people like balthier and vaan ?? idk 
> 
> hmu if you ever wanna chat headcanons too, i'm replaying the game so it could be fun. 
> 
> much love to everyone who reads, comments, and/or leaves kudos. xo


	3. Giruvegan

_‘... Fool of a pirate.’_

The first thing he feels is falling. The sensation of gravity leaving the air around him like a vacuum: all at once followed then by the knee-jerk semblance. He’s floating now, among a sea of black void where not even a distance flicker of light can be seen. Are his eyes closed? Where is he?

Where are Fran, Vaan, and even Penelo?

He tries to move his arm only to meet resistance; as if two hands, much smaller than his, have taken to hanging off his arm like a deadweight. Is that his heartbeat he hears drumming against his ribcage? The beating more akin to that of a melody of a trapped bird looking to escape its cage which is covered; death becoming the creature pretending to be asleep to avoid unwarranted attention.

Or is it something - _someone_ \- else?

_‘Why do you keep trying to run away?’_

A familiar voice from many years ago finally breaches the endlessness around him. He dares not answer it; never ask questions of a power you know not of. He remembers the trip to Giruvegan, he remembers his father’s final years.

_‘Children become more like their parents than they care to admit.’_

It answers him despite not being asked. His stomach drops, biles rises up his throat; fear consuming and devouring all it can reach. The scent of Galbana Lilies mixed with old parchment comes to suffocating him as his movements become more erratic. Chest heaving, a dampness all about his face - swallowing, swallowing, swallowing anything he can besides the dread.

_‘You’ll make the same decisions as him, just give it time. You’ll ruin them too.’_

Light floods Balthier’s vision finally. His heart ready to burst from his chest and spill grief about the shared cabin of he and Vaan. Wild eyes move from the tasteful ornate ceiling to the small dresser off to the corner, then to the still closed door from when he had shut it only a few hours ago. 

Even Vaan, who is sitting up in their bed looking down at him with concern painted a bright blue across his face thanks to the small neon light behind him on the table. Everything in place and untouched by some ghoulish hand. Yet, Balthier still finds it hard to settle his quaking mind and trembling limbs.

“Hey, you’re okay. It was just a nightmare.”

With another shaky gasp Balthier reaches out for Vaan’s outstretched hand grasping it tightly. 

“Balthier you need to breathe.”

His knuckles turn white against Vaan’s hand. Oh, how he’s trying, he wants to say but the words refuse to come. Balthier’s eyes search Vaan’s face as his body scrambles to sit up in their bed, legs kicking at the silk sheets for any kind of freedom. His back slams against the wall behind them. Vaan stays beside him holding onto his hand - an anchor in this turbulent exchange. 

“We’re on our way back to Giruvegan. You and Fran came across a rumor in The Sandsea when we stopped on our way back from Bhujerba. About some artifact that’s in the surrounding waters right after you get inside.” 

“Yes…”

A few breaths later, Balthier finds his voice. The pounding of his heart subsiding to the occasional rhythm though the fear is slowly receding. His lungs are no longer on fire, he can no longer smell the parchment and lilies hovering dangerously under his nose. He doesn’t let go of Vaan’s hand, but the grip slackens as his head leans back against the headboard.

Vaan stays beside him. His hand twisting a bit in Balthier’s grasp to allow his thumb to caress the smooth skin atop his lover’s hand. They sit there in silence for a while; Balthier breathing and Vaan soothing, until Balthier finds it in him to speak again.

This time, free of fear he asks, “Did I pick up an alignment on our way out? Am I ill?”

Balthier puts his hand to his forehead to feel for fever. Perhaps an unhappy customer or an old acquaintance out for revenge after hearing rumors of his alleged resurgence. Anything was possible now that the threat of all-out war was behind the people of Ivalice. 

“You were having a panic attack.”

“Bah,” Balthier drops his hand back onto the sheets with a soft thud. “I’m no soldier Vaan. Besides, the worst of it is over. What would I have to panic over?” 

Their hands disconnect at this as Vaan slides up closer to him. Nimble hands trace the faint scars left from the eroding Bahamut; starting at his navel and working up to just below his neck across his collarbone. Like a new set of veins pumping new blood, they sit as a reminder for Balthier of why heroics can get even the best killed.

“You can have a panic attack over anything. You’re not immune to it just because you’re stubborn.”

Balthier peers down at him, making a sound with his teeth as he reaches for Vaan again. 

“You sound more like Fran with each passing day. I’m not overly fond of it.”

Vaan smiles finally - faint - underneath the glow. He climbs up onto Balthier and lets both of his hands find their way around his neck. In mirror, Balthier’s arms go around Vaan’s hips. Silence passes through the cabin save for the sound of steady breathing. 

“The soldiers who came home from Nalbina have it,” Vaan starts, “You could hear them screaming from the streets at night all the time.” 

A nasty memory - one filled with blood and the emotional scars to match the physical. It’s a world Vaan knows not to imagine himself in lest he think of Reks and the others like him. The suffering on the streets of Rabanastre always left behind as blind eyes turned away from them in favor of a newfound savior. He releases his hands in favor of moving them up against the short locks of hair on Balthier’s head. 

Vaan brings their foreheads together, “It’s okay if you have them you know.”

Balthier marvels at how three years have changed such a youth, and perhaps mourns it just a bit. Vaan’s childhood stolen in favor of taking care of the ones younger than him, and now Balthier, someone older and given everything he could have wanted in his childhood. Still - he brings a hand to Vaan’s cheek. 

“I’m fine Vaan, there’s no need to worry. Even leading men can have a nightmare or two.” 

He brings their lips together for a kiss. Vaan’s lips taste of nothing; relief washes over him in the form of a sigh.

“It was most likely brought on by your snoring. I should really invest in some earplugs.”

Vaan huffs. Balthier smirks. 

“I don’t snore!”

“Like a roaring wyrm my love. Some nights it’s utterly unbearable.”

Vaan shoves Balthier’s chest before sliding back down into the bed. His arms cross over his chest while his back meets Balthier. 

“Well you have bad morning breath. Like really bad.”

“Yes, you tell me every chance you get. I’m not quick to believe it.”

Balthier settles back down into the bed, pulling the sheets up over Vaan and him. His chest slots against Vaan’s arched back, his lips dancing on his neck up to the crown of his head before Vaan reaches back for his hands to pull around his chest. 

In a few more moments, Vaan falls asleep.

Balthier finds the thought of sleep terrifying and instead spend the rest of the night focusing on the way Vaan’s body rises with each intake of air.

* * *

With the _Strahl_ secured on the outskirts of the Feywood, the group packs the necessary items and makes for the Mist shrouded area. Fran and Penelo head off first - chatting with their heads turned towards one another. Vaan forgoes a smile as his hands fold behind his head to come together against his neck.

Balthier comes up beside him having locked and cloaked the craft for safe keeping. It’s unlikely now that they’ll come across any unsavory individuals this close to the Ancient City, but it never hurts to be safe. His face is paler than usual - cheeks lacking the soft color of one too much in the sun but not as immune to the hot rays of the desert like Vaan.

“You feeling okay?”

A huff; their romance having forgon the honeymoon phase long ago (though not without a fair share of passionate nights in a city’s inn). Rather, they find themselves fretting over the insignificant and significant alike. Vaan more so the first and Balthier saving the crumbling wall for moments when they’re alone, far away from public view.

“I can assure you my consternation from last night is gone.” 

Vaan looks at him capricious glance complete with downturned lips. Balthier instead leans over to plant his lips against the churl’s temple while his hands slips to the small of Vaan’s back. Both frequent spots adorned when he’s looking to get himself out of trouble.

“I haven’t had nightmares since I was a child. It was… unexpected.” 

For all the distaste it musters in him to say, Balthier means it. Vaan holds his gaze for a few moments before Penelo calls out for them to hurry up and to save it for later after they’ve gotten their treasure. A brief pause moves through - Vaan finally nodding, smiling, leaning in for a kiss of his own before running after the girls.

Balthier stays by the cloaked _Strahl_ for one moment longer. There’s something he can’t understand coming from the Mist - not a voice he can make out, not a face, but rather the insurmountable feeling of dread crawling back up his throat. He swallows. 

Gun at his side and knuckles white, he closes up the rear of their group.

* * *

“Do you think the Occuria know we’re coming?”

“They would have known the moment we landed.”

An exacerbated expression passes through Vaan and Penelo after Fran’s answer, shoulders hunching in unison. It’s not exactly a place any of them saw themselves returning to; the last time a chilling message and a choice for their Princess to decide the fate of Ivalice. 

It had gone in the way of the living - away from the will of the Ancient Gods - but would a second time stepping into the ruins see them leaving with the same ease? 

“You think they’ll come and talk to us?”

“Hard to say.”

Fran’s nose twitches slightly. Balthier takes it for what it is; an acknowledgement of the world they’re about to re-enter without wanting to hinder the purposeful steps towards the gate that the younger duo take. They’re still new to the game of chase that Balthier and Fran have fine tuned over the years. Learning first hand sticks more with a novice individual than someone ruining the story a head of time. 

“Guess we’ll just have to watch our backs.”

Vaan shrugs, unbothered. Penelo nudges him with the hilt of her masamune. 

“Make sure you don’t run off on your own.”

The tone of a concerned sister, a friend who has seen too much for such a short lifespan. Though, if Balthier remembers right: Penelo is older by a few months and considerably the more responsible of the two. Vaan swats away the sword before reaching for his own dagger, twirling it around with deft fingers that Balthier has come to know intimately over the years. It seems ill-timed for him to make mention to their party that Vaan’s middle and ring finger are considerably more dexterous than his index. 

Maybe he’ll save it for the next time they’re alone, and the promise of Vaan demonstrating can be tempted out of him.

The group tredges further into the Feywood; hacking away at the last of the monsters in the shrine to give them a moment to breathe and to find the correct path through the Mist washes around them in turbulent waves. Penelo and Vaan work together to hack away at a group of Preying Mantis; guts mixed with pieces of broken shell cling to their clothing and on the ends of their hair. Fran works support from the back as Balthier does, casting magicks when needed. 

“Phew.” 

Vaan drags his dagger through snow after the last Behemoth falls - crumpling into itself before disappearing back into the Mist in a flurry of lights. Penelo leans against her sword stuck in the ground while Fran tends to a rather nasty gash in her shoulder. Balthier stays close to Vaan’s side as they rest, handing a half-empty potion over to his lover. 

“Not much further if I remember correctly.”

The opening platform of Giruvegan is free of monsters. The only thing they’ll find there is the sickening silence of nothing and everything all at once. Though, the knowledge of what lies within the Ancient City leaves pebbled flesh on his clothed arms. One visit was more than enough for him all those years ago, and by unfortunate circumstance and greed alone; a measure of them find themselves back in search for something without the holy powers of utter destruction.

It’s then, in the quiet moments of reprieve, that Balthier hears that voice again.

_‘You’re going to get them killed for your own selfish desires.’_

The fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Warning spreading through his body like wildfire. His head turns sharply, eyes scanning over his right shoulder for the source of the voice. A shimmer of green and gold reflects in the Mist; it looks like his reflection looking back at him, all distorted and see-through. Balthier takes a shuddering breath in.

He holds it as he stares into the vastness before him.

_‘You’re just like your father. Always searching for something of monetary value.’_

His head twists again, this time going over his left shoulder where the voice has gone across his shoulder. Once again he finds nothing but the reflection of himself with wide, nervous eyes. Balthier can feel his heart beating restlessly in his chest - almost hard enough to resonate against the metal in his vest. The hand on the gun tightens as his finger draws close to the trigger.

_‘Give up this foolish endeavor!’_

The voice calls from in front of Balthier now. Hesitant strikes him first brought on my the terrible palpitations of his heart - the erratic drumming in his ears warning him that he who is not him yet is standing before him now. His mind draped in heavy Mist to try and see the rationality behind the fact that he cannot exist in two places.

And yet, the face that greets him when his eyes finally return to center is that of his own. Some wrinkles around the eyes, aged visible, the same outfit he currently wears but ruined with blood and rust. A gastly look into a doomed future like his father. Balthier raises his gun quickly. 

_‘Do it!’_

Balthier finds it hurts to breathe. 

_‘Quickly!’_

His hand does not shake.

“ - thier!”

The Mist settles; the swirls of green, gold, and blue subside to reveal his desert love with eyes almost as wide as his. His father is not here. 

“Terribly sorry. Let’s just,” a breath, “Let’s keep moving. We’re almost there. As soon as we find this trinket we can take our leave.” The sooner he can get back in the air away from Giruvegan, the better. Balthier drops his gun and quickly distances himself from the other three.

By the time the group reaches the Gigas Gate, they find it’s already open for them. Silence greets them as they pass through with eyes wide and alert.

* * *

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.”

Vaan and Penelo huddle close to one another as Fran and Balthier go over the worn map snatched from the Sandsea. The group stays nears the gate to avoid the Daedalus kneeling at the end beside the Way Stone. From the information that Fran was able to gather from her first look over of the map; the treasure resides outside of the city.

It seemed silly to them that they would travel back into the metaphorical Wyrm’s nest if there was no reason to.

Balthier shakes his head, one hand coming to rub his temples as Fran folds up the map delicately before handing it over to him. She whispers something to him that Penelo and Vaan can’t make out, but the latter notices the way Balthier’s back straightens up slightly when she turns away. 

“The map does not say where the treasure is exactly.”

Penelo sighs, putting her hands on her hips. Vaan in turn puts his arms behind his head. Balthier stays a bit away from them, looking to the gun on his hip. It’s a conversation for later, Vaan decides and whistles idly.

“Guess we just sort of look around?”

“You’re always so helpful Vaan.”

Penelo rolls her eyes, but smiles as Vaan groans. Fran lets a hint of a smile pass by her own lips before doing just as hinted; looking around the area for something that might be some semblance of a clue. They spend the next insurmountable amount of minutes doing this - looking at the walls, the gate, around the old architecture of the city. Vaan gets the closest to the Daedalus but at the appearance of a stone cracking he backs away towards the gate once more.

“I think I see something!”

It’s on his way back that Vaan hears Penelo’s shout. Fran is beside her, glancing over her shoulder with a hand on her arm. Balthier is off to Penelo’s left, peering out of the corner of his eyes. Fran concludes Penelo’s catch when Vaan reaches the edge of the walkway.

“There is something there. It is not too deep but it is sinking.”

The clattering of Vaan’s dagger breaks the group’s gaze - their eyes widening as they watch the youngest of them jump into the shimmering waters before them. Penelo looks ready to laugh as much as Fran looks ready to sigh. However, their initial reactions subside when Balthier’s voice rings out in an almost echo around the otherwise empty landscape.

“Vaan!”

The terror in it; the unknown lying beneath the water as Balthier finally lets go of his gun. It doesn’t sound as if it breaks when it hits the ground - if only a small mercy for later when this has passed and they’re all safe and away from Giruvegan. 

“Balthier.”

Fran lets go of Penelo’s arm in favor of grabbing her partners. The throbbing pain is back, the voice in the back of Balthier’s head. Foolishness, cowardness, the inevitably of losing Vaan to some greater power all amalgamates in the moment he can no longer see the boy’s air bubbles pop on the surface of the water.

He doesn’t hear Fran call his name again.

He doesn’t feel Penelo touch his shoulder, nor her voice telling him that Vaan can swim more than amply. 

The reflection of his face in the water shows a much younger Balthier; the one in the last few days in Archades before leaving his father and the life of madness behind. The vision smiles at him wickedly with a mouth full of sharp teeth. The eyes begin to glow a cruel yellow when the voice reaches out to him again. 

_‘Fool.’_

Balthier finally breathes when Vaan’s head comes up above the water to ruin the reflection. He’s got a smile on his face despite the disappointment in his voice when he informs the group that he wasn’t able to get whatever it was. It takes a few more moments before he notices the scene at hand; Fran and Penelo’s hands on Balthier paired with the look of panic in Balthier’s eyes.

In the next moment Vaan - soaking and skin prickled slightly - brings himself back up onto the shore, grabbing a hold of Balthier’s face to check him over in the sunlight shining down above them. 

“Balthier it’s okay.”

A repeat of the night before; fear collecting in a dashing pair of eyes too concerned with other things to notice the toll of the years running might have on his own self. Vaan can’t blame him for wanting to run, he’s done so himself most of his life after Reks. Still - he rubs circles in his jaw as he holds onto his lover until Balthier finally calms down.

“The next time we are in Rabanastre I will go see someone. Penelo, I trust your judgements over Vaans.”

Vaan gives him a wry smile, instead choosing to hold onto his wrist rather than a quick comment the entire trek back to the ship, only letting go when they’re high above the world.

* * *

They don’t see the glimmer in the water as the doors close behind them, nor the pair of bright, gold eyes staring at them from the end of the walkway; full of malice and cruel intentions.

A laugh echoes as the doors finally seals shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wew it's been a while but finally a new chapter. i took a break from ff12 for a bit, but recently got back into the swing of things and just in time for holidays! i always thought the reflections you could see when going through the feywood was a really fascinating detail. that and how they touch one certain aspects like the aftershock of war, ptsd, panic attacks, but not really deep into it so i just wanted to add that as someone who also has had panic attacks before.
> 
> i also had this idea floating around about re-telling the story of 12 with the change that instead of noah being a judge it was balthier. i'm sure a bunch of people have had the idea over the years but! everyone brings something new to the table with their own stories. so maybe i'll throw it together, i'll just have to see how things go.
> 
> happy belated hanukkah, merry christmas, and happy almost kwanzaa! happy holidays if i missed any, or if you don't celebrate any holidays i hope you've been having a nice december!
> 
> much love to everyone who reads, comments, and/or leaves kudos. xo


	4. Mosphoran Highwaste

Imprints of the Occuria seem all the more visible now; the Espers glyft to skin in attempts to use one necessary to fight another teironey. History follows itself like a snake coiling around itself, some perpetual ouroborus, set to feed on humes inability to learn from their past mistakes. The reminder of these follies present themselves in burnt skin hidden underneath expensive wares, in patches of skin where hair no longer grows, and in the shakable hearts of those soaring high above the mountains.

They settle down Babbling Vale. Fran and Penelo go off to barter for supplies from the wandering merchants taking a reprieve from the traveling north to rest their weary feet and catch their breaths. Balthier hangs in the cockpit still, deft fingers idly turning off the gold cufflinks, pulling them in and out and back in again. 

The trip to Giruvegan instills itself in his mind still - the mental fortitude to keep the nuisating thoughts aside while the sun hangs above their heads is there, but he finds late at night, with Vaan drooling slightly on his shoulder, that the darkness is harder to fight.

It comes at first, like any other dream. 

The illicit joys of this natural world; open skies for what he may want to do with as he pleases, Fran by his side with a coolness to the slant of her shoulders, Vaan nearby all bright and glowing with that desert glow that brings even the strongest men to their knees. It’s far from idyllic, but it fits any sort of deep rooted passions of a man who’s spent most of his life running. It changes shortly after to falling.

An untouchable void that sees no top or bottom, no floor to fall onto or sky to escape through. He sees Fran burn in the fires of the Bahamut, sees Vaan twisted into a monster by the Empire. It sees him, looking at his reflection in black metal, judges engravings not only on the armor, but in his skin. 

The Strahl no longer becomes his ship, but rather, the name of a puppet used to destroy. 

He’s unsure how much time allots in his worrying, though, he suspects a fair amount as Vaan finally starts to shout his name from the entrance way. 

“Are you going deaf or are you just choosing to ignore me?”

Balthier feels the etchings of his cuffs once more, eyes still focusing through the window of the Strahl to some unimportant barrels of who knows what being cold nearby. 

“I must say the thought never crossed my mind, but if you continue to insinuate that I’m growing old, I might consider it.”

Balthier sees Vaan move from the corner of his eye, coming up around his side and sliding his hands cleverly between Balthier’s both to stop the idly worrying and to occupy the space there in something he finds both possessive and caring. He finds he’s almost proud of the nimbleness to those hands and spares himself the notion of patting his own back in congratulations for helping a noisy brat learn to be more stealthy. 

“C’mon, I wanna show you something.”

Before Balthier has a chance to retort that they’re not here for sightseeing and merely here to grab supplies at a bargain price, he feels himself being pulled from the Strahl into the crisp air of the Highwaste.

* * *

They’re a fair bit away from the Strahl before Balthier decides to finally ask where they’re going, the allure of watching Vaan’s back muscles and backside wearing off from the smell of damp soil and greenery. Instead of answering Vaan continues to lead them higher up the inclining rocky hills. The last time they found themselves wandering the slopes here was in search of Exodus: another Esper in the plight of a princess out to safe her country.

Even that seems so long ago now.

“Vaan, you’re trying my patience and you know I’m not one for surprises.”

A hollow threat really. 

While Balthier may not enjoy the likes of unplanned surprises, more so in the context of a job than some sort of extracurricular activity like whatever Vaan may have in mind, the general principle stands. They’re about to the top of the hidden path, where Exodus once was to be more precise, when Balthier pulls his hand out of Vaan’s grasp and adjusts the wrists of his shirt.

Vaan reaches for him again, all clean, trimmed fingernails at the behest of Balthier earlier in their excursions around Ivalice, wrapping around his arm once more to drag him against the stones to the clearing. No monsters seem to be hovering, maybe the presence of those in the company of the Occuria keep the lessers at bay - or maybe it’s nothing worthwhile at all. 

Whatever the case may be, it doesn’t seem to hinder Vaan’s inhibitions in the slightest as he shoves Balthier down onto the stones before quickly occupying the seat that becomes his lap. Sitting back up, Balthier picks the little stones from the palms of his hands, huffing slightly as Vaan’s hands find the finely trimmed edges of hair against his neck. 

“If you wanted to do this we could have just stayed on the Strahl where there’s no dirt to be found.”

Not always the case when one adventure sees Vaan tracking filth, ruined clothing, and all manners of visceral into his neatly kept airship, but he stands by the principal as best he can - and in all fairness that will never be utter aloud, he has no idea what Vaan’s brought him up here to do. He can think of a few things he’d prefer.

“Can you be quiet for two minutes?”

“My, the churl’s finally grown some teeth.”

Balthier brings one of his hands to his mouth and makes a zipping motion in front of it, smirk and all, before leaning back on the hands he just cleaned. He watches, bemused, as Vaan still on his lap reaches into a pack to pull out some kind of silk-like sash. His eyebrow raises, slightly, before his vision is covered in a purple haze where the only thing that seems to break through are separate shades of violet, twisting from the rays of the sun hanging above them.

“May I ask a question now?”

“No.”

“You know I’m not fond of surprises, Vaan.”

“I know.”

“So would you care to enlighten me as to what you’re doing?”

“No.”

Another huff escapes Balthier’s lips as he shrugs his shoulders finally in defeat. Had this been anyone else other than the trio that follow him from city to city in search of some great treasure, the hairs on his body might have stood at attention. One sense blocked, others amplifying, and normally the need to look for a way out comes as his most base instinct.

Yet, with Vaan, Balthier finds himself leaning up straighter, hands finally leaving the stone underneath them complete with miniscule imprints in his palms, to the bare sides of his lover. 

He finds the warm skin there still hot from the sun, the minor scars from their misadventures through the years culminating to this moment now, the knots in his spine that have filled out considerably from the first time he ran his fingers over them one hot night in Archades. Has he ever noticed the dip on the inside of his waist, not put there any muscle definition, but perhaps a scar from an encounter that’s never come up in conversation before; or the faint hair just below his navel that Balthier is sure is as blonde as the hair on Vaan’s head, or maybe a bit darker from behind hidden beneath his obnoxiously baggy pants. 

His tongue comes out to wet his lips and finds another mouth quickly enough. It’s soft and pliant and tastes a bit of the Bhujerba Madhu they were able to grab on their last visit to the sky city. They part, faces hovering close enough for Balthier to feel, and even notice the sight unkempt stubble against Vaan’s jaw that he’s never really took notice to before. 

Balthier feels a set of hands undoing the buttons on his shirt, not going all the way up but just enough that he’s pulled it out from underneath his belt, and allows his fingers to have free roam over Balthier’s chest. They’re worn now, much more than his own, with small calluses gathering together in clusters on the very edges of Vaan’s fingertips and at the base of his palms. Working hands, ones that got dirty for the sake of necessity. 

So very unlike his own, and Balthier leans before again, seeking Vaan’s mouth. 

It continues like this for however long, Balthier finding that it doesn’t quite matter as long as he can keep Vaan’s hands on him, in his lap, mouth nearby and welcoming, only coming to an end when the sun no longer shines variations of purple against his eyes and he starts to feel Vaan shivering slightly under his hands. 

One quick final kiss comes, complete with something whispered for only the person in front of Balthier to hear, before Vaan undoes the knot on the blindfold and finally, Balthier is able to see his lover once more; red marks that will surely turn to bruises on his neck, a light dusting of pink shading his cheeks, sitting underneath eyes that seem too heavy in wanting something still. 

“What was this all about? Not that I’m complaining.”

“You always complain.”

“Not that point, Vaan.”

“You always pay too much attention on how stuff looks that you miss the other stuff.”

An apprehensive look comes across his face, one that Balthier knows is there by the way Vaan grins triumphantly, reaching out for the silk that Balthier holds out of his reach. 

“Aren’t you just full of surprises? I think I’ll keep this.”

They find their way back down to the Strahl to find Penelo and Fran packing up the supplies they’ve gathered earlier, chatting idly by the open door, hands dancing over hands.

* * *

Despite the day having shone bright from the unblocked sun, complete with a night clear and full of stars; the next morning sees a storm too dangerous to take flight. Balthier stirs, barely awake, to find the other side of his bed empty. A spot Vaan typically occupies, already cool to the touch, and rather than going off to search the length of the ship for the urchin, he merely rolls onto his side, willing himself back to sleep with the sounds of rain pelting down against the metal hull of the Strahl.

The reprieve is short-lived - however - for what seems like only a few precious seconds later, Balthier feels calloused hands in his hair, massaging the top of his scalp, then down against his face with the same gentleness, to pulling at the corner of his mouth with finger-like hooks in order to bare his teeth to the cool air of the bedroom. Common sense tells him he should have known it would only ever be a minimal amount of time before Vaan found his way back to wherever he may be, occupied or otherwise.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, you can get up.”

Balthier swats away Vaan's hands, but rather than shoving the man away completely, he settles for grasping onto the wrists he finds, pulling Vaan back to down onto the bed, giving only a soft sound of disappointment to find Vaan fully dressed and slightly damp from what he can only assume is from the rain outside.

“I think I deserve a day spent in bed. All this constant flying around has left be a bit sleep deprived. So you can either take all this off,” he gestures to the clothing, wrinkling his face slightly at the growing wet spot at the corner of the sheets, “and come join me, or you can leave me in peace for another few hours.”

Some time passes before Balthier feels the bed finally left, Vaan moving beside the bed to shimmying out of the wet clothing, leaving them to collect in a pile on that floor that Balthier finds himself too tired to chastise him about. Rather than slipping back under the covers as proposed, Balthier finds mock disappointment as Vaan rummages around the nearby drawer for something dry to put on; a shirt too short, revealing his midriff that seems so very like him normally with a pair of shorts that come up just a bit too high on his thighs, to which Balthier manages a hum of approval in his tired state.

Unseen, Vaan grabs something off the nearby table that Balthier only finds out about he’s back on the bed, sitting on top of the covers with his legs crossed, ankles knocking the side of Balthier’s legs.

“Don’t sit like that. I’m too tired for round two of whatever sensory deprivation you’ve got brewing in that mind of yours.”

“Shut up, you liked it.”

Balthier doesn’t dispute that, rather, grabs the edges of the sheets and pulls them over his head. 

“I’ll be going back to sleep now.”

“Can you teach me how to play cards?”

A harmless enough request, something Vaan’s seen Balthier play countless times at the various taverns they stop in for a night to stretch their bent and weary legs, where they might be able to afford a more lavish bath than that available on the Strahl. Balthier thinks it only natural what Vaan would want to either learn to be a part of the conversation, or play alone with him. 

Whatever the case may be, he tries not to let it show how touching it comes across.

“Do you know anything about playing cards?”

“I know it goes up to twelve and then there’s kings and queens and stuff.”

“Close, but not quite there.”

Vaan’s smile grows as Balthier finally sits up in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist as he re-positions his legs to make room between the two of them. In a lounging movement, Balthier takes the cards out of Vaan’s hands and starts to lie them out on top of the bed, taking the time to lay the doubles on top of one another, separating as much as he can on the available surface. He keeps the blacks in their own little piles, the reds in theirs, and idly as he makes some space between, allows himself the gift of running the back of his fingers up Vaan’s leg.

“Now, what game do you want to learn?”

“You mean there’s more than one?”

The hand caressing Vaan’s leg, still, not necessarily purposeful but more a comforting and familiar place, pinches the side of his knee before removing itself completely. 

“There’s many Vaan.”

“Which one do you play?”

“I play quite a few, it all depends on the company I have.”

Off in the corner of his eye, Balthier can see the way Vaan’s hands twist in the sheets, wrapping the fabric around whatever part of the digit he can. He notices the way Vaan’s mouth puckers, slightly, like he wants to bite his lip but without giving away that he’s frustrated, chews on the inside of it instead. It’s endearing, and makes him feel like some youth in the throngs of new love.

“Well… which one is your favorite?”

“I find blackjack to be just the comfortable amount of skill that doesn’t require me to change the way I look.”

The rain continues to fall around them, creating an arrhythmic melody that’s unlikely to repeat as Balthier goes over the basics of the game: the meaning of each value, the colors, the importance of counting and knowing the odds of what card may come up next and what the other people at the table might have under theirs. 

Occasionally their hands will brush over one another as cards move from one to the other, a wink here and a smirk there, words of encouragement falling between harmless threats that culminate in Vaan winning a round, finally, over Balthier.

* * *

Countless card games later, both with and without Fran and Penelo, sees the morning of the second day break the storm, leaving the quartet to finally step back onto the slightly damp earth of the Highwaste. Balthier opts to stay by the Strahl, looking over the outside to check for any damage from the flying debris while the other three stretch their legs and gather anything else they may want before they make for Rabanastre.

He picks a fleck of dirt, idly, waiting for the familiar footfalls of his companions and revels over the past fortnight. The trip to Giruvegan that has left nothing but discontent mixed with nauseating thoughts in his mind, the sensation of lingering panic like that of an cloak he’s unable to free himself from. 

Certainly, he thinks as he looks over his hands, if he were to think hard on the voice echoing out of the darkness, he suspects he might find it is one he’s heard before - spoken to him in passing, through another, a lasting nightmare even death seems unable to remove from this world entirely; his eyes close.

“Hey Balthier, you got a second?”

His eyes open, a quick shock that’s soon replaced by the known warmth that comes when Vaan says his name. The context varies, surely, depending on what they’ve gotten themselves into, if they’re alone, if it’s out of annoyance or passion or something else altogether he doesn’t want to think about presently. He’s not sure when this revelation first came about, and finds, in the years spent together, that he hardly cares to pinpoint the exact date.

“That all depends if you're going to make me sit in the mud again.”

“Nah none of that. C’mon, I need a table.”

Vaan, with all his brevity and clumsy wit, grabs Balthier’s hand and leads, if not lures, him back onto the Strahl, which has luckily filtered out most of the stuffy air from their day spent huddling underneath sheets, around the table, in the cockpit, and anywhere that might afford them a chance to bend their knees and roll their stiff ankles. They settle down at the table where Vaan then proceeds to take out a package; unrolling the contents to show a small vial of ink, a pen, what looks to be some dark stone or pigment for sketching, and a roll of paper. 

Balthier smiles, beside himself, bemused by the scene of Vaan carefully separating everything.

“Taking an interest in artistry now are we?”

“Not really, I just wanna try something.”

His back presses against the back of the chair, ankles touching underneath the table, hands on the top to lightly tap some indistinct melody. A hum; it seems only natural for Vaan to want to learn other skills, something to keep the idle moments, a first for everything when so much lies at the hands of a boy just only seeing what the world has to offer him now, so far into his life already.

“Would you like to draw me?”

Vaan’s quiet, eyes still on the material laid out in front of him as if he’s unsure where to start. Balthier, watching still, nudges Vaan gently with his foot underneath the table.

“Out with it.”

“I wanna draw something for you.”

“And what do you have in mind?”

There’s a pause, Vaan once more chewing on the inside of his lip rather than nursing it between his teeth, careful not to pierce the soft skin there. Vaan’s hands go for the pigment instead of the ink, less permanent and easier to clean if mistakes are made, and Balthier’s eyebrow raises as he has yet to hear a reply.

“Well?”

When Vaan finally looks up, the look on his face is something new, or rather, something Balthier hasn’t seen in years. The look of longing, melancholic, where it could contain happiness or despair, or anything in and around the sensation of endearment. He remembers seeing it with Reks, around Penelo, to even the other little brats wandering around the slums of Rabanastre. 

“You said you didn't have any pictures of your mom, so I'm gonna make you one.”

Once more Balthier finds himself marveling at the wonder that is the man sitting before him now, hands collecting black smudges from the pigment held between his fingers, the heart of some foretold protagonist in a story told to children to remind them to be good and well and to move with empathy and righteousness in their minds and souls. His throat tightens with the surmisable conclusion that it would only ever be a short period of time before his beloved would speak of her.

“Very well then.”

Unable to destroy the idea from Vaan’s mind, and surely the softness that’s come in the years of the Bahamut’s falling and peace returning to the various kingdoms, he indulges the endeavor. It starts with her hair; amber, almost gold like in the direct sunlight, down past her shoulders though almost exclusive done up with slight curls at the end from the heat of Archades. 

Balthier keeps his eyes shut during the process, not wanting to see his long but hardly forgotten mother coming to life once more on the pages of some cheaply obtained scrap paper, but he hears the scratching of the pen, of the pigment stick, of Vaan’s fingernails getting dirty by rubbing out mistakes he made.

The shape of the eyes that he remembers less so than the color which were green as a jewel, brilliant, and full of a vigor unmatched by anyone Balthier can remember during that time in his life. The lips follow thereafter, the line of the jaw and the pattern of freckles, a dusting, sit underneath her eyes on the top of her cheeks pair concurrently to some traditional beauty. These details, however, are nothing more than a memory of that of a young child, and that of a man that has little left to remember of the sweeter moments in life not tarnished by a wicked father: he could be right, or completely fabricated to remember her as something full of wonder and grace.

“I think I'm done.”

Yet, even as he hears the sound of the pigments being placed back down and Vaan cleaning his hands off on his pants, Balthier’s eyes stay shut. There’s a reality that will settle when he opens them, notwithstanding any lack of love and any sort of endearment that stems from that, rather, the heavy weight of loss that comes in one harsh wave. Here he sits at a table, his parents gone much like that of the man across from him, and to the similarity of their companions out still searching the vendors for anything they might still need. Together they find themselves a merry little gang of orphans, all fighting through their lives searching for something meaningful. 

His vision is thus; Vaan with the same worried expression on his face that Balthier instinctively reaches out to flick away that is followed, with downcast eyes, the crudely drawn portrait of a woman Vaan has never seen and will never see. It’s far from flattering, the furthest from how the vision in his mother remains in the recesses of his mind, and still he finds the tightness in this throat returning, the swelling of his heart; a laugh coming up between what could almost me a cry. 

The imperfections make it all the more valuable. 

“My, you truly are full of surprises.”

* * *

“I want you to take me to where you buried your brother.”

It’s a late night declaration that sends Vaan sitting up in bed, he scars of their past are well and healed over now, reminders yes, but far from open wounds to leave them sick and dying. 

“Are you sure?”

Balthier reaches up, staying lounged and with his eyes still shut, to drag Vaan back down onto the bed so that he might cover the spot on Vaan’s shoulder with his lips.

“Positive, now, shall we go back to sleep?”

Morning brings a plethora of questions, excitement, and even a stray tear that Balthier wipes away before placing Vaan's drawing away somewhere safe; a treasure in its own right and to be seen and treated as such.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (hello from the other side) 
> 
> long time no see! i'm sure you guessed i took a break from ff in general but i hate leaving things unfinished so i'm gonna try to get this bad boy all wrapped up as soon as i can for those still checking back. all the love to anyone who've read this even once.
> 
> i started playing kh again with friends as i slowly chip away at my 'get all the psn trophies in ff12', idk why i do it to myself but hey ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ i'm also sure my writing style has changed a bit once again so apologies in advance if things seem strange going from chapter to chapter!
> 
> much love to everyone who reads, comments, and/or leaves kudos. xo


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